


Protective

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Knotting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5701975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a patch of ridged scar tissue riding the curve of Finn’s left shoulder blade. Going by the easy stretch of the scar tissue, the way its leathery ridges refuse to gather and bunch like a fresher wound, Poe guesses it has to be at least ten years old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protective

Poe shields his eyes and squints up at the sky. Black team circles overhead, moving into formation to break through the atmosphere on their way to Centari 8 and he shakes his head as Jess does a 180 reverse to bring up the rear. Show off. 

Poe’s down to a singlet and flight pants which are sticking uncomfortably to his legs, having just returned from an engagement with an imperial squad. The First Order had been trying to establish a foothold in one of the outer rim territories. Red team had destroyed the scouting envoy, but more will return now that the position is vulnerable. They didn’t have the man power to leave a defensive regiment and the alliance will pay for it. 

With Star Killer Base destroyed the First Order is expanding their reach further across the galaxy, attempting to enslave new star systems in order to rebuild their ranks, the Rebel army is spread thin trying to combat the threat. They’re winning far more battles than they’re losing, but for every win there are four more threats they do not have the resources to fight. More and more star systems are falling under the banner of the First Order and most days it feels like Poe’s running towards a finish line that’s getting further and further away with every runner he overtakes.

He’s soaping up his x-wing, taking advantage of the cool water that runs from the sponge down his arms and chest, when Finn ducks down in front of him to check the fuel line and he catches sight of Finn’s bare shoulders for the first time.

There is a patch of ridged scar tissue riding the curve of Finn’s left shoulder blade. Going by the easy stretch of the scar tissue, the way its leathery ridges refuse to gather and bunch like a fresher wound, Poe guesses it has to be at least ten years old. 

“Ouch,” Poe says, because the only other appropriate reaction is fuck. “And here I was thinking that armour of yours could stop a proton blast!”

Finn reaches back and runs a thumb over the skin. He looks over his shoulder and grins. “A lucky shot,” he says, cocky as ever.

Poe scrubs at the scorch marks along the left flank and doesn’t think about how young Finn must have been when he got that scar. How he must have screamed and cried.

Later, after they’d showered and dressed for mess, Poe watches Finn eat his rations and feels strangely soothed. He only relaxes once Finn has finished eating and even then he has the strange urge to scrape his beans and potatoes onto Finn’s empty plate.

Finn finishes his protein shake in three gulps, sighing after he’s done, looking dopey and happy and well fed. Poe swallows and looks away.

“Are you sick?” Finn asks seriously, later, when they’re walking back to their barracks. Poe had requested Finn be his bunkmate almost immediately after Rey left. His position as team leader meant he was allowed a single room with amenities, but privacy was a small price to pay for being able to keep an eye on a friend. He named Finn, got him involved in the alliance, saddled him with a quest and a destiny he never asked for. It was the least Poe could do.

Poe sticks his hands in his pockets. “Nah. Just thinking buddy.”

He smiles at Finn, but can’t stop his eyes from roaming, cataloguing the expanses of smooth skin, looking for imperfections, for hurts where there are none.

Finn shrugs, like it’s that simple. It stuns Poe for a moment to realise that Finn trusts him, takes him at his word. 

“Wanna play cards?” Finn asks. A few weeks ago, after a mission gone wrong, after Poe had almost gotten Finn killed, Poe sat Finn down and taught him to play canasta. Watching him learn how to shuffle and deal and kick Poe’s ass made something in Poe unwind. Let him take a breath. 

Poe can only say yes. 

Really, when it comes to Finn, can he say anything else?

 

Yes, as it turns out, yes he can. 

“No,” Poe says, the steel in his voice surprising even himself. 

“Poe,” General Organa says gently, “be reasonable.”

General Organa is- and Poe isn’t exaggerating- the best goddamn general in the alliance. She’s the greatest captain he’s ever had. He’d follow her into a nest of gundarks if she ordered it. He’s done more for her than he ever expected, gone further, stretched himself beyond the point of breaking time and time again. But this is where he draws the line.

“I’ll go,” he says and even as he says it, he knows it’s impossible. 

“Poe,” she says, and this time she’s serious. “Every storm trooper on that base knows your face. You’re the poster boy for the rebellion.”

“You can’t send him,” Poe says, obstinate, and hates himself for arguing with her, for not being able to stop. “Send someone else.”

“Name them,” she says immediately. “Who would you send to their death in his place? Because they would be going to their death Poe.”

His jaw locks as scenarios flash before his eyes. It’s an impossible choice. Instead of making it, he says again, “you’re not sending him.”

General Organa sighs, and he knows she’s disappointed in him. Shame burns low in his stomach, but even that is eclipsed by a protectiveness, a righteousness that surprises him in its immediacy and its strength.

“Someone is leaving at 0800 hours Captain. Once you’ve decided who that will be, come find me.”

General Organa strides away, techs flagging her on either side, whispering in her ears, harbingers of doom. She is receiving constant updates on the First Orders march across the galaxy, rationing out her squadrons, deciding which systems to save and which to let burn. And here Poe is, bargaining for the life of one man. Really, it’s amazing she doesn’t have less patience for him. 

Poe is packing his mission kit when Finn finds him. 

“Going somewhere?”

“General’s orders,” Poe says, lofty and grinning. “Gonna raise hell on Epsilon Prime.”

“Huh,” Finn says, crossing his arms. “You leading black squad this time? I didn’t get a summons.”

“Nah, solo mission.”

Finn nods, staring over Poe’s shoulder. “I’ll ask the general if I can tag along then. It’s been a while since I left base.” Here he stops and stares at Poe and Poe feels his heart ratchet up a few beats. Finn shrugs. “It’s not like I’m doing anything here.”

“No can do my friend. This is a stealth mission. One fighter only.”

“Then we’ll take a duel fighter. I’ll gun, you fly.”

Poe clenches his jaw. “I’m doing this alone Finn.”

Finn shoves him, not hard, but firm enough that Poe stumbles away from the bed and hits the wall. Finn stands in front of him, blocking his path, staring with eyes so dark, so concerned, so angry that Poe is honestly not sure what to do about it.

“You’re an idiot,” Finn says. 

Poe looks away, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he mutters. Figures the old bird would tell. “General Organa?”

Finn nods. 

“She must have known you wouldn’t tell me. That you’d be stupid.” Finn smirks. “Smart woman.”

Poe smiles wryly. “The smartest.”

“So this is how it’s going to go. Either I go alone, as the General ordered.” Poe opens his mouth to argue, but Finn slaps a hand over it. Poe glares at him and finds Finn trying not to laugh. “Or we can go together.”

Poe huffs. He runs a hand over his face. “You’re not going to take no for an answer are you?”

“Not even if you order me.”

“I could tie you up,” Poe says, and it’s only partly a joke.

“Maybe later,” Finn says and it’s only after Finn’s swung his mission kit over his shoulder- already packed, the smug bastard- that Poe remembers how to laugh without sounding hysterical. 

Poe squeezes Finn’s shoulder, finding the ridges that cut across his scar like a mountain range. 

“Let’s go kick some Stormtrooper ass.”

Finn whoops, punching the air.

“Oh yeah!”

 

“This is all your fault!” Finn yells.

Poe ignores him. 

Poe pulls Finn around a corner just in time to avoid being hit by a blaster. He shoulders in front of Finn and takes aim around the corner, squeezing off a couple of shots that miss their mark before letting Finn pull him back around.

“Are you stupid or something?! Give me the blaster!”

Poe’s first reaction is to argue, to keep Finn as far out of harms way as possible. Finn, sensing this, rolls his eyes and grabs the blaster, ignoring Poe’s instinctive grab for the weapon.

“I was a storm trooper. Let me be a storm trooper!” 

Poe grudgingly takes over watching the opposite corridor and lets Finn take down the storm troopers dogging their tail.

“Come on, come on,” Poe mutters as Finn ducks around the corner again. Finn returns fire, managing to kill one and injure another. Poe looks at his chrono- less that five minutes until the place blows. Suddenly, Finn grabs his hand and starts running. Poe looks down, bewildered. 

“I can run you know!” He shouts.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?!” Finn huffs, sliding to his knees behind some storage crates and dragging Poe down with him. The storm troopers run by and Finn pulls him in the other direction.

“That platforms that way!” Poe yells.

“I know a short cut!”

They sprint down the hallway, through a maintenance tunnel and exit out an exhaust fan covered in, well, Poe doesn’t really want to think about it. The take cover behind some barrels and listen for activity. The only thing Poe can hear is the sound of their breathing, impossibly loud in the silence. All he can see are Finn’s eyes, wild and dark. Their hands are still clasped together and Finn’s other hand finds his ribs, the place where his mark is hidden. His breath catches.

“Ready?” Finn asks, breathless.

Poe nods.

They sprint across the landing platform, dodging blaster fire. They get away, but not before Poe is shot in the back. 

“Poe? You alright?!” Finn asks between rounds of blaster fire. Poe does an aerial manoeuvre that shakes a tie fighter off their tail and Finn takes out their other pursuer. They jump to hyper speed and Poe grins.

“All good buddy. I’m fine.”

Later, when Poe is hissing, peeling off his shirt in their barracks Finn looks aghast.

“You are not fine.”

He crowds in close to Poe’s back without permission and Poe attempts to keep his breathing steady as Finn inspects the wound on his back.

“What’s the damage partner?”

Finn is silent for a few moments before Poe feels the light touch of his hand, cupping the scorched skin. Poe shivers.

“Just a graze,” Finn says.

Poe nods, swallowing. 

Poe’s just about to slip on a clean shirt, make a joke, and mosey on down to medical like Finn’s no doubt about to force him to do, when Finn’s hand trails lower, tracing the dip of his lower back, skimming the line of his pants and following them around to trace up his ribs. Goosebumps break out on his skin as Finn traces his mark. Poe’s about to tell him to stop, to tell him that touching someone’s mark is taboo, that he’s touching Poe far too intimately for him to take it any other way except the obvious, when Finn steps closer.

“Poe,” he says, hushed. “I knew that name as a storm trooper, but also before.”

Lips press against the back of his neck, burrowing into the downy curls, damp from sweat. 

“Finn,” Poe breathes and Finn’s hands rise to warm the shivers racing up and down his arms. His lips stay where they are. “What…?”

“I knew the name Poe Dameron. I _knew_ it like it was a part of me.” Finn breathes out, warm across the damp of Poe’s neck. “I think it was.”

Poe closes his eyes, leans into the touch. Finn’s hands clench on his arms, pulling Poe back into his body.

The knowledge comes to him easily, less of a realisation than an awakening.

“Your name isn’t Finn,” Poe says and it rings with truth like nothing ever has.

Finn rubs his thumb along Poe’s mark much the same way he did to his scar. “It is. You gave it to me.”

Poe turns and Finn moves to accommodate him. He slides his arms around Poe’s middle.

“Poe,” he says, full of wonderment.

Poe leans their foreheads together, presses his lips to the corner of Finn’s, letting their bodies intertwine as completely as possible. He runs their lips together, groaning when Finn braces him against his body and levers him up against the wall. 

Finn kisses his jaw, smothers himself in his neck, stays there, breathing him in. Poe’s breath comes short and sharp, his body hot and tingling all over, hypersensitive. Finns hand skims his stomach and he shivers. Poe clutches at Finn’s back, dizzy and grasping for something solid.

Finn raises his head and Poe open his mouth to Finn, lets him in, opens up completely. They fall into one another, pressed as close as two people can be. No urgency, but greedy in a way he’s never felt. Poe wants all of Finn. He wants Finn over him, inside him, under him. Wants to be inside him, be over him, to consume him and to be consumed. 

Finn must walk them to the bed because Poe finds himself on his back with Finn kneeling over him, sliding his pants off, leaving him bare. Poe watches, sloe-eyed, as Finn’s clothes drop to the floor, as he slides up Poe’s body like a cat. Finn lets Poe ride his thigh, hold him as he shivers, rubs hot and hard against the damp line of his pelvis. Poe arches, sighs, gasps as Finn runs his mouth everywhere, tastes every piece of him. Then, once he’s done, turns him on his stomach and starts again. He comes back to himself a little when he finds Poe’s wound and stops long enough to bandage it, before continuing down his body, finding all the places that make Poe gasp and writhe. By the time he’s done, Poe is a shaking, gasping mess of sweat and fluid. He hasn’t come yet, but feels the pull of it all the way through his body, like an indrawn tide. Finn looks at him like no one ever has, entitled and honoured to be so.

“Finn,” Poe says. It feels like all he can say.

Finn looks at him, kisses the arch of each foot, opens his legs and holds his pelvis in his lap. He spreads Poe, runs his thumbs up the seams of his pelvis, parts his cheeks.

Poe shivers and Finn’s eyes grow impossibly darker. He ducks his head.

At the first swipe of his tongue, Poe sucks on his lip, goes tense all over, straining into the pull of orgasm, ever elusive. 

Finn blows against the wet skin and Poe feels himself crinkle, his toes curl, hears a sound come out of his mouth that he’s never heard before. Not even in heat.

Finn shudders and sighs. Poe feels it and tries not to whimper.

“Please,” Finn pleads, so low. “Poe.”

Poe can only arch, gasp, can only moan as Finn’s tongue parts him and makes him shiver and clench inside. Makes him wet and sloppy enough to be noisy. The noises he’s making feel like they’re coming from behind his stomach, somewhere deep down inside, some place he’s never touched before. Finn hears them and clutches at Poe’s hips, rubs his length against whatever part of Poe is closest. Poe feels him, hot and hard and _ready_ and squirms with impatience. He flips them, puts Finn on his back and straddles his thighs, panting, staring down at his sex with dizzying hunger. He licks his lips and bends to taste. Poe takes him in and Finn shouts. Poe clutches at his hips, makes him grow hotter and bigger in his mouth, gets him nice and wet and ready. Once Finn’s panting, jerking his hips up and down like he can’t help it, Poe fits the head of his cock against his sex and takes him in nice and slow. 

Poe pants all the way down, taking Finn in fitful little jerks, rolling his neck, closing his eyes. 

“Poe,” Finn says, breathless, and he cracks his eyes open to watch Finn watch him. He grins, arches his neck, rolls his hips to take him in that little bit further. 

Finn goes a little cross eyed and Poe laughs.

Finn grins back, but it slowly slips off his face the longer they stare at each other. There’s a thickness in the air that has little to do with the smell of sex and the lack of circulation. Finn rolls his hips up and Poe gasps as he slides in all the way, biting his lip against the sheer toe-curling bliss of it all. 

Finn stares at him with those intense eyes and all Poe can do it groan and plead with his eyes, for him to move, for him to do something. Finn seems to know what he wants because he sits up on his knees and pulls Poe’s thighs over his hips, pinning him to the headboard. They pant into each other’s mouths and when Finn withdraws and shoves into him again Poe feels it in the deepest parts of him. Finn fucks him hard and slow, eyes never leaving his face, watching for every shiver, every quiver, every flutter of pleasure he can’t help but display. 

“Finn,” he groans, once, then over and over as Finn ups his pace.

“You look…,” Finn says, trailing off like it’s indescribable.

Poe spreads his arms to brace either side of the headboard and starts pushing back, getting Finn deep inside where he wants him. They moves together for hours, until Finn is grunting on every thrust and Poe is a creature of pleading, broken noise. 

Poe can tell Finn’s close because he feels his cock bulge and grow hot, feels his balls draw up tight. Finn buries his head in Poe’s neck and braces his hands on the headboard, summoning the will to pull out and release on the sheets. Poe whines as he withdraws, wrapping his legs around his back, keeping him sheathed, rolling his hips indolently. 

“Please,” Poe groans, half out of his mind with desire, with lust. Some part of him knows this is a bad idea, that Finn could be carrying diseases from his time with the First Order, that there’s so much he doesn’t know about how they’re raised, but that part’s so quiet, and he _wants_ this like he’s never wanted anything. Wants Finn inside properly. Wants Finn where he belongs. 

Finn groans, long and loud, and bounces Poe in his lap, rubbing at the slippery edge of his sex, sending sparks of light skittering up his spine. Finn gets big, stretches Poe wider and wider until he wants to scream. Then he stops, shudders, and Poe feels his release inside, feels his knot lock in place and Poe’s orgasm hits him, sweeps through his body like the tide coming in- finally. 

Finn holds him in the aftershocks, both of them humid with sweat, entwined in possibly the most uncomfortable position ever. But they’re close. Poe has Finn wrapped around him, closer than he ever dreamed. 

Poe tugs on his ear, turns Finn’s face up and kisses him long and slow, syrup sweet. 

“I’ll warn you now,” Poe says, once he’s developed the ability to speak words other than Finn’s name and _oh!_ “I’m a bit protective.”

Finn snorts. “I already knew that.”

“Yeah. I’m not very good at hiding it.”

“No you certainly are not.”

“But you like me anyway,” Poe says tiredly.

Finn presses a kiss to his temple. 

“Yeah. You could say that. You could also say that I…uh… the other thing.”

Poe grins.

“Yeah buddy. I ‘the other thing’ you too.”


End file.
